Monday, April 25, 2011

Nine

Dear Hannah,

Today at exactly 9:10 p.m, you have been in my life for nine fantastic years. When I think about that number, it astounds me. Partly because I cannot believe it has been that long, but mostly because it means I am halfway done with your daily presence in my life. And quite frankly, I don't know what I'll ever do without you.

We had your birthday dinner last night with Daddy, and, as per our tradition, I told the story of your birth. You laughed and smiled, shrugging your shoulders when I told about you being so late. I remember when I finally did get to have your tiny body in my arms, and was able to gaze at your absolutely perfect face -- in that moment, I knew I was complete. I knew there was nothing else in the world that I would ever need. You were the icing on the cake. And our life has known nothing but pink, fluffy sweetness ever since.

You constantly amaze me with your creativity. You currently plan to be an author when you grow up, and are in the middle of writing your first novel. Last fall, you brought me a jar and several scraps of paper, and told me to give you topics to write about. I brainstormed and filled up your little pieces of paper, then sat back and reveled in the writing you brought me.

You write beyond your years, baby girl.

Please don't let anyone crush that in you. The creative writing bug is a delicate thing, one that must be protected and nourished. I hope you will continue to pour out your soul via paper and pen. I think the world will be a better place for having read it.

You have still not outgrown your fierce independence, and deep down inside I am grateful. You have no doubt of what you want, and how you will get there. It is a constant negotiation with you. I can't simply say no, I have to tell you why, and when, and how I came to that conclusion. Your keen mind has to be satisfied, and sometimes that takes quite a bit of work on my end.

I also frequently have to remind you that I am still the mom, as your inner leader comes out when dealing with your brothers on an almost daily basis. The funny thing is, they tend to actually obey you and do what you ask.

It leaves me no doubt that you will one day make a fantastic mother.

Deep at your core, there is nothing but goodness. You and sensitive and kind. You root for the underdog every single time. You are happy and your laughter is contagious. You make me try harder, as mediocre is not in your vocabulary.

You are so beautiful, and your smile lights up the room. There is nothing I love more than seeing your green eyes sparkle as you chatter away about your day. Or holding you on my lap, cuddling you and your gangly limbs.

Can I just tell you how much I love that? How much I love that you still climb up onto my lap now and then? You've not fit there for quite some time, but I never tire of feeling your soft hands as they explore my earrings or count my freckles.

You make my life sparkle. You make everything so much fun. I thank the lord in all his wisdom for sending me exactly what I needed, just when I needed it.

Would you give anything to read those words from your own mother from when you were nine years old? I would, which is why I keep writing to my little girls. I want them to hear over and over again that I love(d) them more than life itself.